


Surrender Your Flesh

by mirawonderfulstar



Series: PMP (plant monster porn) [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Choking, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other, Tentacle Rape, The Sound And The Fury Missing Scene, but also i've been thinking about it since i first heard The Sound And The Fury, this is literally just porn guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar
Summary: Hilbert swallowed heavily. The thing had not let go of him. “Eiffel.” He said again, more urgently.Eiffel responded far too casually for Hilbert’s liking. “Don’t worry about the clashing titans, I don’t think they’ve managed to kill each other just yet.”Hilbert had no idea what he was talking about but in that moment he had more important things to worry about. Namely, that specimen 34’s grip on him hadn’t slackened and that other tendrils were moving up his legs, slowly and almost... sensuously. Hilbert swallowed again. He was likely projecting that last.Look... that whole monologue in The Sound And The Fury? Super kinky.





	Surrender Your Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> @ Zach and Urbina, I apologize.

Specimen 34 was on the move.

It had escaped into the vents the day of the biannual physicals and nobody had seen or heard from it since, until today. Hera had informed Hilbert in a rushed tone in the late afternoon that the plant monster had finally, briefly, moved back into her field of sensor vision. It was in the ducts towards the front of the station, on the side facing the star. Hilbert had dropped what he was doing at once to track it down.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be alone in this commitment to finding the thing. He couldn’t get Minkowski on the comms system and Hera had been increasingly short with him all evening. Calling Eiffel had yielded a typically sarcastic reply about being trapped in the comms room so as to avoid Minkowski and some remarks about superheroes that he couldn’t parse. So it was with some trepidation (and the station’s flamethrower) that Hilbert set out for the area Hera had spotted the thing in.

It didn’t take long to find the area she'd seen it. The majority of the thing might be in the vents, but it must have left briefly for some reason because there was a trail of dirt and other debris on the walls outside an access port. Hilbert pried the cover off and hoisted himself up and into the ducts, the flamethrower held out in front of him.

He crawled through the tight space for several minutes, following the trail of the thing as it had scraped across the walls of the duct. He hoped it hadn’t gone very far.

Suddenly a thick tendril of the plant lashed out from around a turn up ahead and tore the flamethrower out of his hands. It whipped back around the corner and out of sight. Hilbert jumped, then grit his teeth. He’d have to take the flamethrower back, of course, which meant he’d have to go around the corner and face the thing, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He lay there in the dark for a moment and took several deep breaths. He should call one of the others for help.

“Commander?” He muttered into the communicator on his jumpsuit. There was no response. Hilbert really hoped whatever was going on with Minkowski would sort itself out by the next day, because much as he was loathe to admit it he really did not like being the most competent person on board the station and therefore being the one responsible for this little venture he was currently making through the ducts.

Hilbert tried again. “Hera?”

“Not _now_ , Doctor Hilbert.” Hera snapped. Hilbert sighed. That left one option. Such was Hilbert’s distraction and annoyance at the fact that he was going to have to call Eiffel for help that he didn’t notice the thick braid of vines snaking slowly towards him through the ducts.

“Eiffel?”

“Hey, Doctor Hilbert.” Eiffel responded cheerfully. Hilbert closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, a sigh which turned rapidly to a gasp as specimen 34 wrapped a tendril around his torso and yanked him down the duct and into a small dark room, no bigger than your average bathroom.

A brief glance around the room told Hilbert he was in very deep trouble. The camera in the corner that would normally link Hera’s visual and auditory sensors into this room had been destroyed. Every wall was covered in crawling, twisting tendrils which spread out towards several different vent entrances and in the center of the room was a mass of plant matter and, in the center of _that_ , a single eye.

Hilbert swallowed heavily. The thing had not let go of him. “Eiffel.” He said again, more urgently.

Eiffel responded far too casually for Hilbert’s liking. “Don’t worry about the clashing titans, I don’t think they’ve managed to kill each other just yet.”

Hilbert had no idea what he was talking about but in that moment he had more important things to worry about. Namely, that specimen 34’s grip on him hadn’t slackened and that other tendrils were moving up his legs, slowly and almost... sensuously. Hilbert swallowed again. He was likely projecting that last.

“ _Eiffel_.”

“No, I haven’t got the foggiest about what set them off. Maybe Hera put skim milk instead of 2% into the commander’s seaweed this morning.”

Ah, so Minkowski and Hera were fighting and had been all day. That explained some things, like- okay, the plant was _definitely_ stroking him. The vines on his legs had slithered up his body and wrapped around his thighs, and one of them was flicking over his crotch experimentally. Hilbert whimpered.

“ ** _Eiffel_**.” He all but shouted, silently willing the idiot sitting in the comms room to shut up and pay attention for once in his miserable life. It did no good. Eiffel prattled on.

“Besides, you know how it can be. Minkowski does pigheaded obstinacy like it’s an Olympic sport, and Hera is a grand master at the passive aggressive slow burn. I guess it was just a matter of time before things got to a boil.”

Hilbert had stopped listening. A tendril of plant had crept up his torso and found the zipper on his jumpsuit at the same moment he had yelled, and was dragging it down and exposing his skin to the air, to the access of the plant. The tentacles around his thighs loosened momentarily, and Hilbert breathed a small sigh of relief, but then they slithered up into his suit, climbing in and stroking over his now exposed chest. Hilbert shouted and tried to jerk away, but more vines whipped away from the wall and bound him at the wrists and ankles, holding him in place. The plant’s tendrils were heavy on his chest, pulsing in a slow, sickly sort of way, like watching the life bleed out of someone. Hilbert gasped as a leaf grazed his nipple. 

The thing was pushing his briefs down off his hips. It was stroking over his cock, and Hilbert was half hard just from thinking about this ludicrous situation he’d managed to get himself into, but when it touched him he cried out and jerked his hips forward. His eyes fell on the mass of vines in the center of the small room, on the single eye which was watching him with a spark of awareness Hilbert did not at all like. He shuddered in horror as, before his eyes, the mass of tentacles parted to reveal an impossibly huge mouth full of row after row of impossibly sharp, pointed teeth. Horror, and an awful, terrible arousal.

There was a vine tightening around his cock and a vine sliding along his ass to prod at his hole and a vine still moving up his chest to lay loosely on his throat. Hilbert swallowed and felt his Adam’s apple bob against the tendril, felt the plant throb on his neck. With a choked sob he spread his legs, silently pleading with the thing to finish what it had started. The thing's single bulbous eye blinked slowly.

Hilbert squeezed his own eyes shut as it entered him, feeling tears leak out of the corners of his eyes at the pain as it stretched him to fullness. The tendril on his cock tightened and he moaned as it prevented his release. The tentacle in his ass was unwinding inside him, sending a hundred smaller vines probing through him. He felt his vision white out for a moment as one of them struck his prostate and he would have come right then if he wasn’t in such a tight grip.

Hilbert shook in the creature’s grasp as it continued to poke about inside him. It felt so wrong to be enjoying this but it had been years since someone, anyone, had touched Hilbert with even a fraction of this interest and he felt his mouth go slack with pleasure as another vine brushed over his prostate.

In a flash there was a mass of vines in his mouth, forcing its way down his throat. Hilbert choked, trying to draw in air, with little success. The thing was suffocating him, filling him from both ends, and oh god, he was going to die in a hidden room on the Hephaestus and his coworkers probably wouldn’t even begin looking for him until tomorrow because they were too busy yelling at each other. Hilbert tried to bite down on the tentacle in his mouth but with little hope of it having any effect.

But, incredibly, the vines in his mouth were withdrawing, and he was gagging as in slithered back out past his lips and instead moved to encircle his head. The grip on his cock loosened slightly, and Hilbert’s hips jerked forward of their own accord, thrusting into the grip of the thing as it continued to probe his ass and run small feelers over his face, his nostrils, his eyes, his ears.

The tendrils in his ass continued to pulse, and the tendrils encircling his cock slipped through his pre-cum, and Hilbert was coming with a hoarse, exhausted cry. If it had been up to him he would have slumped forward, but the thing still had him bound by the wrists and ankles and the feelers exploring his face chose the moment of his orgasm to push themselves into his ears, and then it was all over.

Hilbert felt himself floating in a hazy post-orgasmic bliss, vaguely aware that he should be struggling and terrified but unable to summon up the energy to do anything about it. He _was_ aware, somewhere, that Eiffel was still talking to him. His hand drifted lazily to the communicator in the breast pocket of his jumpsuit, and he responded to Eiffel’s question without really thinking about it. It was sort of nice, not to think about something.

“I would never harm specimen 34, Eiffel.”

 

Much, much later, Minkowski managed to knock Hilbert out and lock him up in his quarters to sleep off whatever had happened to him. She really didn’t want to think about it. When he woke up after an unprecedented fourteen hours of rest, it was to find himself extremely sore, covered in small welts in unusual places, and with two small lengths of withering vine on his pillow next to his ears.


End file.
